


She Is Being Hunted By Everyone

by Theveryhornycaterpillar



Series: How We Met Again [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, One-Shot, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:50:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theveryhornycaterpillar/pseuds/Theveryhornycaterpillar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the teaser for S3. Indra said 'She' was being hunted. She never said who 'She' was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Is Being Hunted By Everyone

The mountain had fallen and so had you. The mountain had fallen  at the hands of Clarke and so had you. You had left her there to die. Your people came first, they had to, but ultimately it was your decision that caused this. Your decision that caused your own downward spiral.

The rumours had started two days after the fall of the mountain men. The girl with hair like the sun became a lone wanderer, leaving her people with fire running through her veins and ice in her heart. You had sent your people to search for her, but each time they returned with glimpses yet nothing more. On the fourth week, a search party returned with her fire running through their veins. Their shouts of Heda were harsh. There was no admiration there. Instead, there was anger, bitterness and distaste. They spat your once respected title from their tongues as if it were poison. They told you that they had seen her and that was that. They said no more. No location, no words of her wellbeing, only a ‘shah heda’ and a ball of spit landing at your feet.

The four men paid the price for their insolence, but the whispering behind your back continued. For yet another month there were no sightings of Clarke. At least, that’s what your people told you however their anger was clear to see. There were stories spreading throughout the twelve clans about the tale the golden haired woman was telling, but you knew none of them. Nobody would tell you. You found that they would sooner die than reveal her secrets.

Eventually, it came to the time where nobody within the coalition would look at you. You knew not why, but the cruel snarls and narrowed eyes told you it was her that had caused it. Sixty-four days after the fall of the mountain two of your warriors entered the Commander’s tent with knives clutched tight in their hands. You defeated them and they too paid the ultimate price, but nothing could be done to dispel the fear in your bones. Even your own guards glared at you when they thought you were not looking. The generals from other clans hissed their greetings.

Sideways glances, whispering, sneers. Yet nothing prepared you for the first time you heard it. That cruel word coming from the lips of none other than Indra. Your most trusted general stood before you, her face twisted into pure anger, “I know what you did. Natrona!” The words shook you to your core tearing you apart from the inside. Chants of ‘jus daun, jus drein’ echoed from outside of your tent. “I know what you did in Ton DC natrona!” Indra spat stepping closer to you with each syllable. “Run now and pray we never catch you natrona”.

So you ran. You ran, the chants of blood must have blood fading behind you. All the whispers, all the looks, they all made sense. This was the story Clarke had been telling. She had laid bare the sacrifice you made your own people a part of without their knowledge. She had told them of how they were used as a bargaining chip for waging war. And now they knew. They knew and you were being hunted by your own people.

In the dead of night you would sneak into the villages you once reigned over and steal rags. You exchanged your luxurious attire for scraps of cloth that barely patched together to create an outfit.

Four days into your exile you witnessed members of all twelve clans journeying to Polis, The banner of the Azgeda flying honourably as their queen took your throne. Until you were dead there was no new commander so she had taken the role until you were found and brought to justice. There was no doubt in your mind that the coalition would soon falter under her, but that meant nothing to you any longer. Not when you were merely attempting to survive.

There were no flashes of blonde hiding in the trees. No matter how hard you looked there were only shadows. The kind of shadows that haunted you long into the night bringing with them whispered echoes of your own people’s final words to you.

You had once told Clarke that you were not scared of dying. That death was not the end. After two weeks on the run, you realised how wrong you had been. Death may not be the end, you may not be scared of being reborn but the thought of dying terrified you. If your people ever caught you, you would suffer the pain of the hundreds of deaths you had inflicted. Whether deserved or not you must suffer the pain that you yourself had caused others.

The morning of your seventeenth day started like all the other days. you emerged from the cave you had been using for shelter into the watery sunlight, drawing your sword as you stepped forward. Your path was clear, it always was. You were the only person left alive who knew of this place. You and Costia had been the only two to ever know of it. There was a stream nearby which joined a wide river where the supply of fish was plentiful. It was becoming repetitive, but then your options were limited.

You caught enough for your meals that day while the sun was yet to reach its highest point. The grim task of gutting them had become almost calming in the days you had spent on your own. Compared to the wars you once waged this was peaceful. A part of your mind reminded you that this was the closest you would ever come to peace. Running for your life from the people you once led.

The violent thrashing of water behind you was all it took for you to start running, surging forwards as adrenaline coursed through your body willing your legs to pull through the water faster. You were too slow. The first thing you felt were the arms on your shoulders, pulling you into them to wrap around your neck, then sharp knees struck your kidneys pitching you forward into the icy water. You felt your attacker draw back jumping to their feet as you fought against the chilling water and pain in your forearms to roll over. 

She stood above you, water dripping from the red hair framing an all too familiar face. The face you had prayed to see again while dreading the moment you would ever set eyes upon it. A handgun was held in her left hand in a grip so hard it turned her knuckles white. She lowered it a fraction to point directly at your head.  “Clarke?” Your own words surprised you, betraying your conflicting emotions in a strangled gasp.

“Fuck you Lexa” 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this very quickly and if you read any of my other stuff you will know that writing isn't something I'm always too great at. Let me know what you think and let's hope the trailer doesn't kill us all before S3 airs.


End file.
